If You Pick the Right Flowers
by breezypixy
Summary: cute little romantic ficlet.  "If you pick the right flowers, he will always love you."


**A/N: You can imagine any pairing you want with this 'cause it doesn't really say. Personally, I was thinking Remus/OC, Sirius/OC, or Teddy/Victoire, but whatever you like will probably work. Message me any pairings that particularly stand out to you. **** Enjoy!**

"He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not."

I watched as she gloomily dropped the petalless flower head, and picked another from amid the wild garden. She had been going on this way for several minutes now. Every time the petals prophesized that the mystery man did not love her, her mood visibly dropped. As she finished up her current bud, I moved to stand beside her. I sensed her gaze shift to me as I bent down to pick a five-petaled flower. "If you pick the right flowers, he will always love you," I murmured to her, before handing over the blossom.

She hesitated before commencing the old adage. "He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me." A wide smile lit her countenance as she let go of the final petal. "Pick me another," she requested, and I did, leaning down to pluck the colored prophet, making sure the petal-count was odd. This time she giggled when the last elliptical petal fell.

"He must love you now," I told her, disguising the bitterness in my voice with soft tones. No one really knew that I had fallen for this child-like girl who had waltzed into my life at the point when I had almost given up on happiness and hope. Watching her pine over another was hard, I must admit, but I would not mar her delicate joy with the wants of a scarred soul.

She spun to face me, her eyes wide with innocent hope. We were nearly touching, but she didn't seem to notice, though it made my heart skip a beat or two. "If he really does love me, then I guess I should let him know that I feel the same." I envied her naïve view of love. To her, the confusing tangle of relationships was a simple circle, and it was only the fault of those involved that it seemed to be a messy knot.

"Go on then. Go tell him." It pained me, but I was used to her just skipping away from me, so how much more could it hurt this time?

"I think I will." Her smile reached her sparkling, playful eyes. "You've got to help me though." I was startled by her request, and prepared myself to refuse her. I couldn't watch as she laid bare her heart to some guy that wasn't me. "Lean down a little." I was confused, but obliged anyways.

Her lips moved to my ear. "I love you," she whispered and then backed away quickly. My questioning eyes shot up to lock with her laughing ones. "It's true," she said in response to my expression.

A slow smile began to spread across my face as I moved toward her leisurely. I could nearly touch her without moving my hand, before she twirled away and began dancing and skipping through the field. "Not fair!" I called. "You can't just drop that on me and then run away!"

"Whoever said I was running away?" was her sassy, but serious reply. "Follow me!"

Shaking my head at her antics, I raced across the expanse of flowers and grasses that separated us. She giggled as I caught her, spinning her through the clear air. Both of us breathing heavily, I placed her gently on the ground, but kept one hand on her arm to prevent her from dancing off again. We had some unresolved business to attend to. I looked deep into her eyes and asked, "Do you really love me?"

Instead of answering, she reached down, carefully picked a flower, and handed it to me. "She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me," I played along.

"If you pick the right flowers, she will always love you," she copied my earlier words.

I could resist any longer: I leaned down and placed my lips softly on hers. Slowly and gently, she responded. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before she broke away, giggling again. Somehow, I knew she was not laughing at me, but simply to give an outlet to her internal joy. Taking my hand, she pulled me down onto the ground. Surrounded by tall grasses and swaying blossoms, we gazed at the sky, and spent the afternoon finding shapes in the clouds. My heart soared higher every second that her small hand was intertwined with me.


End file.
